


Les Bisous

by emzyyy



Category: Madeline Series - Ludwig Bemelmans & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Five Times, Friends to Lovers, Historical References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-10 14:00:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19906852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emzyyy/pseuds/emzyyy
Summary: The more things change, the more they stay the same.Five kisses.





	Les Bisous

**1941**

Madeline couldn't fight the pit in her stomach when Pepito appeared at the door. It wasn't a bad feeling, not really. Just the clench of uncharted territory. Up to now, her birthday had been almost identical to her last. Miss Clavel had led everyone in song at the breakfast table. Mrs. Murphy had baked her a delicious cake with fruit and fresh cream. Papa had sent her toys and candies from overseas, along with a letter saying how much he missed her. Pepito's role in all of this was new.

He had lived next door to the old house for almost a year before his reformation from a "bad hat," and Madeline almost hadn't been able to enjoy her last birthday she was so paranoid he would try some stunt to ruin it. And now here he was with hair neatly combed and a present under his arm. A big present.

Still, they were friends now. They were past all that. And Madeline happily led him into the parlor, where they were in the middle of present time.

All of the girls' gifts were sweet, but very predictable. A stuffed bear from Chloe; a bag of jacks and marbles from Nicole; a set of hairpins from Danielle.

When Pepito's turn came, he pushed the box next to her with a beaming smile.

" _Feliz cumple,_ Madeline," he said. "Happy birthday."

She began carefully removing the ribbon, but then Nicole started chanting "Rip it! Rip it!" So she dug a finger under the corner fold and yanked. Inside the plain white box, nestled in tissue paper, was a canary yellow parasol trimmed in lace. She gasped.

It was _lovely._

After a brief moment of shock, Madeline opened it and twirled it over her shoulder like a lady of high society. "It's my favorite color!"

The girls oohed and ahhed. Pepito grinned, chest puffed out.

Madeline floated to his side, stood up on her tiptoes, and kissed him on the cheek. An airy one, but she supplied it with a soft _mwah_ when she pulled back.

Pepito's entire face flushed red. Madeline, the girls, and even Miss Clavel burst into giggles.

**1945**

Pepito's family was living in Portugal the day the war ended. The Spanish ambassador already looked for any excuse to throw a party, but for such a momentous occasion he pulled out all the stops. The first invitations went straight to Paris by express.

The entire house nearly turned upside down in a frenzy. Everyone got new dresses and shoes - even a bright red ribbon for Genevieve made of real silk - and they all hopped the night train down to Lisbon.

The embassy of Spain absolutely sparkled that evening. No expense was spared for food, decorations, music... _anything._ And the halls buzzed with dozens of guests - maybe even hundreds. Many important people with sashes and medals and at least three or four names. But the ambassador didn't treat Miss Clavel, the girls, Genevieve, and even Mrs. Murphy as anything less than royalty.

"Tonight is not only a celebration of peace, but of friendship and good fortune!" he boomed as the first toast (of many) of the evening. He raised a glass of champagne, then kissed the ambassadress soundly. The other guests did the same.

In fact, the night was filled with _a lot_ of kissing of all kinds. Husbands and wives. Brothers and sisters. Parents and children. Friends. The war had taken a toll on everyone. Most of the guests came from countries involved with most of the combat. But now the worries were behind them. Now was a time for joy.

Madeline spent most of the night dancing, eager to show off her fancy new dress: layers of chiffon the same canary yellow as the parasol she carried around as a child. Along with shiny new shoes and ringlet curls hanging from her temples, she felt like a princess.

At one point, she hovered in the corner with a glass of lemonade, trying to catch her second wind, and the band rose from one dwindling number into another. Madeline actually recognized the tune. It was a Spanish folk song she had heard Pepito hum under his breath on several occasions.

Before she could so much as turn her head to look for him, Pepito appeared at her side as if from a puff of smoke.

"C'mon, Madeline!" He grabbed her arm, and she just barely got her drink back onto the table before he pulled her onto the dance floor.

"Pepito--!" she laughed.

His hand slid down to clasp hers while the other rested delicately on her waist...or what _should_ have been her waist. She was still quite narrow-figured while her friends' hips were filling out. He straightened his posture and began to lead her in a loose waltz. Those dancing lessons his mother put him through were really starting to pay off. They still bumped together when he tried to spin her under his arm, but they laughed it off.

The tempo picked up. Pepito's smile turned mischievous. He took both her hands, leaned back, and spun them both like a merry-go-round. First one direction, then the other. Madeline first yelped at the motion, but the infectious laughter of the evening took over, and she threw herself into the momentum. A few adults backed away.

They spun as fast as they could on the last lingering note, and Madeline slipped out of his grip when she heard the applause. The two of them continued to spin by themselves a moment longer, unable to properly direct their feet. Madeline clutched her stomach. Her mouth was dry. Her head was light. One of her curls dangled in front of her face, having fallen out of its pin.

She stumbled back to her corner and gulped down the rest of her lemonade. Pepito followed, leaning against the wall and wheezing.

"Is that how the dance is usually done?"

"I improvised a little," he said with a sheepish grin.

The two of them resolved to watching the other party guests and commenting on their attire or mannerisms. Pepito plucked the lemon wedge from the rim of her glass. When she turned around, he flashed her a lemon rind smile.

"You're a child," she snickered.

He spat the lemon out again. "I'm older than you!"

"Only by a few months."

He rolled his eyes. Scratched at something underneath his collar. Then touched her shoulder. "Come over here."

Staying close to the wall, he ducked into the shadows underneath the grand staircase. Madeline followed suit.

"What is it?"

His shoulders tensed, fingers twitched against the cuffs of his jacket.

A smile crept onto her face. This side of Pepito was a rare sight, even moreso now than when they were younger. The nerves and the insecurity. Pepito liked to be one hundred percent sure of himself one hundred percent of the time. But every now and then he let her see his underbelly, and only her. She treasured it.

"Are you okay?"

He took a breath. Then screwed his eyes closed, leaned forward, and pecked his mouth against hers. A flash of a moment; Madeline barely had time to react, just blinking at him.

"Everyone is doing it," he muttered, shoulders almost to his ears.

After her synapses began firing again and she understood what happened, she reached up and smoothed his hair back down from where the dancing had tousled it. " _Merci beaucoup._ It was very nice."

He ducked away from her hand and poked her side. She poked right back. Poke. _Poke._ His shoulders came down again.

They headed back out to the party as if nothing happened.

**1948**

When she looks back on her coming out, she doesn't remember the rehearsals or the flowers or the sound of her name over a microphone. Just the almost dark blue of the sky and the golden light spilling onto the street. A girl in a white dress and black jacket. A boy in a white shirt and black pants. The cold and the warmth.

Miss Clavel's time with the girls was coming to a close, and she wanted to do something extra special before they parted ways. When whispers of debutante season began hovering around the street corners and on signs in the shops, she knew what she had to do.

At the first mention of the ball, Madeline was fairly excited. Dressing up, dancing, and finally being seen as an adult rather than a child.

Oh. And she also needed a partner.

"Do you want to come with me?" she asked Pepito one day, because she physically couldn't think of anyone else.

He shrugged. "Sure. Why not?"

The evening of, Miss Clavel's twelve little girls - now young ladies - filed into the ballroom on the arms of their escorts. Each wore a fluffy white dress with a different colored sash, opera gloves, and rose buds tucked into their hair. Madeline's eyes were starry with the sophistication of it all.

However, after about forty-five minutes of meaningless small talk and painfully slow dancing (not to mention almost every boy in the room swarming around Danielle's fluttering eyes), she could feel the antsiness creeping upon her like a disease.

Pepito must have noticed. Her pulled her toward the fire exit corridor during a dance and she didn't object. Once outside, they found a road and just walked. No destination. Just their footsteps and the stars.

They found an accordion player in the plaza, but of course neither of them were carrying any money to tip him with. However, there was a fountain nearby. Without a word, Pepito peeled off his jacket, rolled up his shirt sleeves, and scooped francs up from the fountain floor until they had a decent contribution.

She wrapped herself in his jacket. He didn't object.

They kept walking across the plaza, and that's how they ended up at Pont Neuf - Pepito on the bridge and Madeline tight-roping on the ledge. His jacket didn't swallow her so much with her arms outstretched like a ballerina in a music box.

"If you fall in the river again, I'm not saving you."

"I don't even think you can swim."

"Don't make me come up there."

"Or what? This was your idea!"

"My idea was to leave. Not risk my neck."

She turned to watch him instead of her toes.

"You are such a bab-- _augh!_ "

"Madeline!"

It took less than a moment. He yanked her arm back. Gravity pulled. His hands around her waist. A stumble. A breath. A lot of breaths.

He held her tight against him, but not uncomfortably so. Their faces were a breath apart. Breath. _Breath._ She could smell his breath. And he was so tall compared to her now. The glow of the street lamps reflected in his dark eyes.

Madeline swallowed. This was Pepito. Her best friend. The boy she knew since she was a child. And she didn't quite know why she had to remind herself of that fact.

"I thought you weren't going to save me," she muttered.

Pepito breathed a laugh, and maybe a bit of hesitation slipped through.

"I guess I can't help myself.

They still hadn't let go of each other. Wait. Each other? Apparently her gloved fists had kneaded into the front of his shirt. All noise faded away except for the sound of his breath.

"Madeline--"

She kissed him. She pushed up on her toes and kissed him. His hands came to a full circle around her back and they melted against each other.

**1952**

It was like the grand fight against Lord Cucuface all over again. No matter how many meetings she arranged with the admission staff or how many strongly worded letters she sent to the board of directors, Madeline couldn't bring Genevieve with her to university. She didn't know what to do. She would be lost without her, she just knew it. How could she explain to the university that Genevieve wasn't simply a bet, but a beloved companion? Her best friend? Yes, her joints creaked and she didn't play as long as she used to, but she was still the happiest, smartest dog that ever was.

Madeline would have surely worked herself into a frenzy, maybe even dropped out of university before it even started, had Miss Clavel not stepped in. They wouldn't be together, but at least Genevieve would be well cared for by someone Madeline trusted, and that would have to be enough.

Then, on a warm April night, Genevieve went quietly in her sleep.

They buried her under the big tree in the yard of the old house. Madeline sat beside her, unmoving and staring into space.

At one point, she noticed herself leaning into someone's side. Pepito. How long he'd been there, she couldn't say. His arm wrapped around her shoulders and she laced her fingers through his.

"She truly was the best dog in the world."

"I know."

"She saved my life. I wouldn't be alive if it weren't for her."

"I know."

He kissed the crown of her head.

"I'm sorry. _Lo siento._ I'm so sorry." He repeated it so much, it almost developed a rhythm.

She fell asleep against him after that.

**1955**

Corsica was breathtaking and fascinating, filled with so much she could only ever dream of experiencing. But after a few months, Madeline's heart ached for Paris. Since she was such a hardworking member of the dig team (as well as the youngest), Monsieur Grosjean was gracious enough to grant her a bit of leave. No longer than two weeks, but it seemed like all the time in the world to her.

She discussed it in her letter to Pepito that night. It would have been such a delight to have him in Paris with her, but he was still busy with his apprenticeship in London.

When the weekend arrived, she was on the first boat back to the mainland, and then the first overnight train to Paris. Every minute aboard felt like an hour, watching the sweet French countryside roll along out the window. She was so excited she could barely eat, only managing to get a piece of toast and some tea down before nightfall.

The next morning, the train pulled into Paris. The moment she stepped on the platform - hat falling off her head because she had rushed her pins - she could see the tip of the Eiffel Tower peeking over the skyline. She could hear the accordions and crank organs of the street musicians. She was home.

The platform quickly began to crowd with the rest of the passengers filing off, so she skirted over to the lunch counter. With one pin pinched between her teeth, she tried to gracefully slip the other one through the fabric of her hat.

" _Madeline!_ "

Her eyes jerked up before she realized she recognized the voice. The second pin fell from her mouth.

His suit was wrinkled and more than a few locks of hair were visibly out of place. But he was _here._ He was supposed to be in London and he was here.

Madeline was too delighted to be mad. She broke into a full sprint across the platform and jumped into his arms. He barely caught her, laughing warm and loud in her ear.

"Pepito, what are you doing here?"

"Your letter said you were coming home. I wanted to be with you."

"What about your apprenticeship?"

"So I'll just make up a few days. What's there to worry about?"

Madeline chuckled, smoothing his hair back. He must have caught a plane the very minute he received her letter. She absently straightened his tie, then pushed up on her toes and kissed him.

His arms immediately wrapped around her back and lifted her up again.

This may have been what she missed the most.

**Author's Note:**

> This piece has been a work in progress for an embarrassingly long time. I don't think it'll ever be perfect, but I'm happy enough with it to share it. Hope you enjoyed!


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